


what is "real", anyway?

by Captain_Toad



Category: The Stanley Parable
Genre: Angst, Gen, Just angst, general bullying of the narrator, narrator getting what he deserves that BITCH, nothing else
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:55:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26998555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Toad/pseuds/Captain_Toad
Summary: the narrator is being a hypocritical bitch and stanley calls him out on it
Relationships: The Narrator & Stanley (The Stanley Parable)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 29





	what is "real", anyway?

"When Stanley came to a set of two open doors," The Narrator said pleasantly, for what had to be the millionth time. "He entered the door on this left." Stanley heaved a heavy sigh.

"Narrator?" He asked wearily.

"Yes, Stanley?"

"How long have we been doing this?"

The Narrator paused to think for a moment.

"About 9 years, give or take." The words sent a wave of exhaustion throughout Stanley. His body swayed a little, legs no longer having the strength to hold him up.

"I'm never getting out of here, am I?" He said glumly.

"What do you mean, Stanley? Of course not," The Narrator scoffed. "You're not a real person, you know that." Stanley's legs gave way and he crumpled to his knees, head buried in his hands, tired tears threatening to spill.

"Oh, come on, don't be like that," The Narrator scolded, albeit slightly uncomfortable at this show of despair from the man. "Don't be a baby, Stanley."

"I know, it's just..." Stanley sucked in a breath as he rubbed his eyes. "For a while, I thought this wasn't going to be permanent. I thought one day I'd be free, if I just kept waiting it out, but... God, it's already been nearly a decade?"

"Stanley, even if I let you free, you'd have nowhere to go," The Narrator explained, his patience wearing thin. "This office, this is the only place that exists for you. There's nothing beyond that, no family or apartment to come home to because you are not real."

"How do you know I'm not real?! I sure as hell feel like I am!" Stanley snapped, suddenly very angry. "I can feel pain when you blow me to smithereens, I feel frustration when we have to go through this whole two door bit again, and I know that I feel upset right about now! Who are you to decide what's real and what's not anyways?!"

"Stanley, you're not real because I made you! I created you for the sole purpose of being a character for my story!" The Narrator was properly frustrated now. "You've never known a live outside the office! Your family, your friends, your wife, your apartment, none of those things have ever existed. They're just fabricated memories I gave you so you would have a backstory. That's it. The only real memories you have started when you first woke at your office computer all those years ago. You. Are not. REAL."

Well what about you? How do you know YOU'RE real?" Stanley shot back, infuriated. "What if you're just another character someone came up with, and you don't know it?" There was a pause for a moment, where the Narrator was at a loss for words.

"Well- I... You..." He stammered. "That's absurd, Stanley! I know that I am real, because..." He trailed of in realization that he had nothing to say. Well I'll be. A Narrator with nothing to say.

"Because WHAT, Narrator?"

"Because... Because I bloody well don't have a voice in my head, dammit!" He snapped. That was the only thing he could come up with.

"Well what if your creator made it so that you didn't need a Narrator?" Stanley retorted, glee in his eyes at finally getting the upper hand at someone who claimed to be an all knowing being, someone who had insulted and tormented him for nine years.

"Stop-" 

"What if your creator made you so they'd know exactly how you'd act, so that they didn't need to tell you what to do to make sure you did it?"

"That's not-"

"How would you know then? You don't! You can't know! You have no way of knowing whether you're real or not!"

"I-"

"Face it, Narrator," Stanley's voice dripped with scorn and malice. "You can't look down on me, because you don't have any way of proving you're not just the same as I am. A character created only to fulfill a story."

"I SAID STOP, DAMMIT!" The Narrator shouted furiously. "I AM NOT A CHARACTER, I AM REAL! I'M REAL AND YOU ARE NOT, THAT'S JUST HOW IT IS! I MUST BE REAL, I HAVE TO BE REAL, SO JUST STOP IT!" The office shook under his rage and despair.

"You don't know that," Stanley whispered giddily. He had never gotten the Narrator to be this upset.

"Shut UP," The Narrator hissed.

"Touchy subject, I take it?" Stanley smirked.

"Stanley realized the floor beneath him was unstable. Before he could move out of the danger zone, the ground gave way, and he plummeted to his death in a lake of acid," The Narrator recited, his words coming true as he said them.

As Stanley fell, he scoffed. He'd died in worse ways at the Narrator's hands. Besides, lake of acid? Worth it, considering he finally got back at the Narrator. He'd do it again a hundred times.


End file.
